A Future Together, but Nothing's Forever
by Azzamonkeyman
Summary: Rose meets an ancient woman who claims to see the future, and tells her she will board the Titanic, which will sink, killing her AND her new lover. Rose refuses to board the ship, but meets a young man who lost a gamble in poker and a ticket to New York
1. Chapter 1

Rose DeWitt Bukater walked down the Promenade of the beach in Southampton, linking arms with her mother Ruth. Passers by knew they were mother and daughter from there pale skin, piercing green eyes and fiery red hair. Rose loved to wear her hair down when she knew her day was going to be spent outdoors, curled elegantly as always, falling over her shoulders, a blue, low neck line dress adorned with golden flower designs and pearl lining hugged her curved body, trails of silk following her in the cool breeze of the afternoon air. Ruth was a bit more tight lipped when it came to how she presented herself. A dark green dress with frills coming right up her neck, held tightly in place with a shining broach, leaving no flesh apart from her face visible. The petticoats of her dress widened her girth to match her already large ego, although not as wide as her hat, decorated with enormous feathers and ribbons which danced in the sea air, high above her red hair which was neatly tied up in a bun. They were both the same, yet entirely different, and that was only outwardly. On the inside, they were far from similar.

"Rose?" Ruth said quietly, almost through her teeth.

"Yes, mother?"

"Who dressed you this morning?"

Rose was puzzled. "Trudy… why do you ask?"

Her mother closed her eyes and sighed, dreading the question she was about to ask. "Are you wearing a corset today?"

The fiery headed 17 year old pulled her arm from her mothers and stopped in her tracks. "Mother!"

Ruth stopped and surveyed those around her, not wanting to cause a scene. "I only ask, because… you don't look…"

"Petite enough?" Rose scoffed.

"Of course you do, of course, you have my figure. You were gifted with that… but… did Trudy tighten it?"

"Yes she did… but I-"

"You told her to loosen it, didn't you?"

"I may have." Rose began walking again, so Ruth began to catch up.

"And do you see that as dignified?"

"I'm dressed, aren't I?"

"Yes, but only just."

"I beg your pardon?" She quickened her pace now, the wind picking up and blowing strands of hair into her face which she pushed aside. "Mother, if I was wearing anymore layers I wouldn't look so petite anymore."

"That neckline is dangerously low."

"Dangerously? What do you think it's going to do, kill me? I think your neckline is more dangerous than mine."

"How so?"

"It's choking you!" Rose laughed.

"It is not…" she played with her broach.

"Oh mother, you should have been a nun… although I think even they would let their hair down once in a blue moon." Rose laughed again and her mother hit the back of her head with her gloves.

"If I were a nun and had you for a daughter I would have you tied up with rosary beads and bathed in holy water."

"Oh no Mother, that's quite alright. Seeing your bulging vein of anger alone can put the fear of God into me." Rose teased.

Ruth began to giggle and took her daughters arm again. Whilst they may have had their disagreements, they could never fall out for long. It wasn't so much that their bond was too strong for a full scale mother and daughter feud. It was only that the young Rose had learned that keeping on Ruth's good side was the easiest thing to do when you were forced to live with her.

And another thing being forced upon the young Rose was a fiancée, Caledon Hockley, who was a good 20 years older than she was. There was no denying he was a dashing man, with a charming smile, persuasive brown eyes and an immaculate dress sense. But he was in his late 30s, and that alone was enough to turn Rose's stomach. Sleeping with him was a hard act to perform. And that's what her ''love'' for him was… an act.

Cal had a way with words however. That was for sure. It was his way with words which first attracted Ruth to him at the funeral of her late husband, Jonathan DeWitt Bukater, an addicted gambler who had endless debts to many people, and ultimately lost his life at the hands of someone he owed money to. Ruth was doing the depressed wife act, a black veil hiding her dry eyes, a black dress and black feather hat to match. This funeral wasn't a day to mourn. It was a day to show off her best black dress to her and Jon's friends and family. Cal and Jon had known one another for some time. They gambled together, and it was Cal who got him into it again after he recovered from the first obsession. Of course, Ruth and Rose were completely oblivious to this.

Ruth was offering finger sandwiches and drinks to the guests after the procession of mourners got back to their manor in Philadelphia, which was conveniently close to the graveyard. Cal was standing by the fireplace, his posture flawless, his expression composed, a glass of brandy in one hand, his bowler hat in the other. His presence alone almost seemed to dominate the room. He was extremely sociable, and had created a group of conversing males around this fireplace, discussing politics and money, and also "congratulating each other on being masters of the Universe" as Rose always said to her friends. When Ruth walked by the men, Cal took her by the hand, gripping it comfortingly. He leaned forward to her and whispered under the racket of the gentleman debating, "I'm ever so sorry Ruth. I truly am. Jon was a brilliant man, but the world knows you deserve better." His eyes sincere, his lips soft, his voice soothing. Ruth was hypnotized by him. She thanked him silently and agreed with his statement, knowing that she deserved more than a legacy of bad debts hidden by a good name. The dress that Ruth was wearing that day was probably that last dress she would ever have bought, for the rest of her fortune would have to go into paying off gamblers debts. A life she couldn't bare thinking about. However, Cal was extremely wealthy. Too young for her, that would be scandalous, but Rose was old enough to marry, and the age gap would not shock their fellow socialites. 20 years was nothing compared to some other couples of the time.

Within months of the funeral, Cal and Rose had been on several dates. Romantic dinners and moonlit walks on the beach. Walks in the park and a horse and cart around the city. Rose found him to be a nice enough man who could give her anything, but the age was too much. She had expressed this to her mother, who simply explained that Cal was the scapegoat out of this life of debt and poverty. Ruth didn't hide the fact that Rose was just a pawn in this game, ultimately leading to ''the Hockley fortune" and as much as Rose wanted to escape this arranged pairing, she couldn't. And when Cal proposed to Rose on December 25th 1911 at a Christmas Dinner, Rose had finally become permanently stuck in this game.

And today, on the 8th of April 1912, Rose and Ruth were heading back to their hotel to meet Cal after a day of shopping. The finishing touches to the wedding were being picked up in England, when Rose discovered that Philadelphia couldn't offer her what she wanted. 500 invitations had to be made, but that had been done back at home, so they were already in the possession of Philadelphia's elite. She had wanted her bridesmaids to wear lavender, for she loved the colour, although Ruth had other ideas. Rose was beginning to think this wasn't her wedding at all. Not that she cared very much at all about the whole arrangement.

Rose still hadn't found a wedding dress. Nothing she had looked at was to her liking. That's what she told her mother anyway. The truth was, the longer she held off finding the dress, the more time she had to live before the wedding, because there's no wedding without a dress. She was really buying time by not buying a dress. The dress was the final turn of the key in the lock which would make Rose a prisoner forever. The first turn of the key was her engagement ring, and holy mother of God was it was an engagement ring to be envied. The biggest lump of diamond and gold Rose and her friends had ever laid eyes upon. "Big enough to sink a ship!" Her friend Helena had squealed when she first spotted it dazzling in the Philadelphia afternoon sun. "Well I plan on jumping ship before it sinks." Rose replied, turning the ring on her finger in an attempt to loosen its fiercely tight grip on her.

Ruth and Rose had left the pier behind and were now walking through the bustling city of Southampton. Trams and automobiles, pedestrians rushing back and forth, the squawking of seagulls swooping down to the cobbled roads and paved sidewalks to capture scraps of dropped food. Ruth hated the filth and noise of the city. She preferred the countryside. Rose on the other hand adored the hive of activity around her, taking in all the people of all social classes. The quietness of the countryside was calming to her, but the noise of the city got her blood rushing, something Rose never felt anymore. Even then, walking down the street arm in arm with her mother, she found it hard to stop herself from running off and dancing round the streetlamps, chasing the gulls and striking up conversations with the gentleman in the top hat outside the Bank, or the little boy playing in the muddle puddle with his toy boat. In fact, this urge to explore the city was becoming too much for her, so she told her mother, "You go back to the hotel mother. I'm feeling a migraine coming on. I think I may just stroll around the block once more." It was a lie, but migraines were something Ruth could relate too.

"It will be the incessant racket of this place giving you a migraine." she looked down her nose at a group of ship builders in their dirty work clothes standing outside the pub, singing songs loudly. Some of them were foreign, and some of them sounded foreign as they struggled to string a sentence together.

"Perhaps." she unlinked arms with Ruth. "I'll head back towards the pier. It's clean air there, like the country." She began to walk off.

"Rose!" Ruth called after her. Her daughter turned, a strand of hair blow over her face, she brushed it aside. She noticed how mature and grown up Rose was now. She wasn't the little girl that used to depend on her father to bring her up. She was independent, although as a woman, society wouldn't let her do things by herself.

Rose noticed that her mother had fallen silent. "Yes mother?"

She snapped out of her thoughts. "Be careful."

Rose smiled, nodded, and headed off into the crowd of people, struggling to blend in with her attire, but as she bid people good day, whether they were poor or wealthy, she could have been anyone's friend in that crowd. And that's how Roe wanted people to see her. Just because she (or her fiancée at least) had money, it didn't mean she wanted people to be cautious of approaching her. She turned round and searched for her mother glare following her, but Ruth had gone. Probably eager to escape the crowds as quickly as possible. She relaxed now, feeling less pressure to be ''proper'' and got to her knees next to the little boy with the boat. She watched him playing on his own in the middle of a busy high street. He glanced over at the shoes she was wearing, he gasped. They were blue and adorned with little shining studs, then he noticed the luxurious material of her dress, and when he lifted his head further he saw her friendly face and bright hair glowing in the sun like a halo.

"Hello." she said warmly. "What you doing?"

Passers by watched, puzzled by the combination of class displayed before them. "My name's James. What's your name?"

"That' a lovely name. My name is Rose."

James laughed slightly, "That's a flower."

Rose chuckled at his adorable grin, "It is indeed a flower."

"Do you want a shot of my boat?" he held out a grubby hand and offered his wooden vessel, dripping with mud and water.

Ruth would be cringing right now, but Rose nodded whole heartedly and replied, "I would love to!"

She took the boat, got onto her knees next to James and made the boat speed through the water, making "choo-choo!" noises as she went. James was in hysterics as she made the boat dance on the water. The people around watched in amazement at the 1st class teenage girl on her hands and knees on the cobbles playing in a muddy puddle with a poor, dirty, 7 year old boy.

"I like you Rose." James said, catching his breath from laughter.

Rose was caught off guard by what she heard, but soon said, "I like you too James."

Just then, a shadow came across the puddle. Rose let go of the boat and it slowly vanished underneath the murky water. She looked over her shoulder and saw an ancient looking women, dressed in rags which were once colourful, her face decorated with wrinkles and lines of life. Her hair was a long, a swirling mess around her head that fell down her back, blowing about her in the breeze. She stared at Rose with deadly serious blue eyes.

"Can I help you?" Rose asked awkwardly.

"No Rose." she replied in a hushed and frail voice. "But I can help you."


	2. Chapter 2

"I'll be back in a moment James." The red headed beauty smiled down at the young boy, who smiled back and continued playing. Rose stood up in confusion and politely took the woman aside, holding her gently by the arm as she guided her through the crowds.

"You can help me? I'm afraid I don't know what you mean."

"You need help, I know you do, and I'm the only person who can give it to you."

Rose was puzzled. What the woman said was ludicrous, but she spoke in such a serious tone, her eager eyes freezing Roses' stare like iced over pools of blue. "Ms, you don't even know me…"

"I know more than you think, I know more than you know. Strangled to death by a golden ring, you're forced to stay but desire to go." The haggard old lady glanced down at the young girls wedding ring finger after she spoke, tilting her head to the side as she laid eyes on her engagement ring. Rose put her hand over this hand uncomfortably, hiding her ring. Was it that obvious that she didn't want to be getting married?

Instead of being scared by the woman's words, she put it down to the fact that she was young, and any young girl wearing a wedding ring is more than likely being pushed into an arranged marriage. "So you think I don't want to get married? Well you're wrong. I'm happily engaged." said Rose, struggling to convince herself.

The woman looked over her shoulder now, not looking at her directly, but still speaking to her, in a trance of sorts. "Smiles and laughter soon will fade, as piles of money grow. Freedom and joy will fade away, as the tyrant starts his show. No escape from golden bars, adorned with rhinestone lies. Your smiles and laughter must not fade, for rich girls never cry. Forced to live with one who gives for the older woman's pleasure. And you shall live but never love, not even with heart shaped treasure."

Rose was astonished. This complete stranger had just told Rose nothing she didn't already know, yet everything she had to hear. How did she know about "the older woman" meaning Ruth, wanting Cal's fortune, and "the tyrant" clearly being Caledon himself. Was this a warning? "smiles and laughter soon shall fade." Did this mean that things were going to become bad? Was Cal about to show his true colours? Rose knew now that the old crone was making sense, and was clearly much wiser than she appeared.

"How can I get away? I can't marry him. I could never grow to love him. What will my future with him entail?" Rose was looking the woman right in the eyes, her voice almost trembling. She had never experienced anything as surreal as this.

"Arriving home on an ocean palace, much more than cars or trains. The woman in white surrounded by black, and bound by sacred chains. Tonight he shall reveal his gift, for his young and pure betrothed. His way of promising to this girl, she'll always be fed and clothed. But there's always a disastrous price to pay for challenging the Gods of Sea. A fight for lust, life and love, only the luckiest will flee. The tyrant will claim his treasure, whether it is dead or alive. But a beggar boy will steal his treasure and with her they shall thrive. The bride to be will leave a shadow that the tyrant can keep in his heart. But a cold encounter that could kill an army will keep the new found lovers apart. Run away from a fortune and steal a name, and live your life as a lie. The most expensive price to pay, to honour the beggar who died. From a floating palace to a simple life, it shall be hard to adjust. But we learn from ships and wedding rings, that metal we shall not trust." When the woman had stopped talking, she raised an arm and pointed into the distance, towards the rooftop of a pub across the road. Confused and extremely intrigued by what she had just heard, Rose followed the direction of her skeletal finger and saw what she was pointing at.

Peering over the rooftops, half hidden by brick structures and chimneys, was the most monumental structure Rose had ever seen. The TITANIC. It loomed above Southampton dock like a God, silently waiting to embark on its maiden voyage. Posters were all over the place advertising its colossal size, and the constant noise of the town was cause by people discussing who had tickets to board in 2 days time. Rose didn't see what all the fuss was about. It was just a ship. Not exactly life changing.

She swung round to ask the old lady another question, but just as suddenly as she had appeared, she was gone. Rose looked through the crowds to try and spot her, but it was no use. She began to walk back over to James. Her mind was buzzing with questions, each one pushing past the other desperately to be the first answered. Glancing up when she reached the puddle, she noticed that James was not there. She looked down into the cold, murky water and saw his toy boat. It was no surprise he had left it. The wooden model had snapped in half. No point in playing with a toy boat that won't stay afloat.

Rose had inhaled enough fresh air for one day, and so decided to walk back to the hotel, her mind literally aching now as she tried to interpret what the old lady had told her. Something about escaping a tyrant and meeting a poor boy. And then something about the sea, and a disaster taking place on the sea. Nothing she said really made sense. It just seemed like gibberish to her. But one part that did stand out in her mind, almost as much as the structure of the TITANIC stood out in Southampton docks, "Tonight he shall reveal his gift, for his young and pure betrothed. His way of promising to this girl, she'll always be fed and clothed." That did sound like something Cal would do…

Rose arrived at the seaside hotel after a refreshing twenty minute journey on foot, the town growing quieter as the air grew colder. A bell boy, who was carrying suitcases out to a Ford Renault, was waling out of the hotel, the smug couple that owned the cases lead the way, refusing to help him. Rose spotted him and kindly stopped him, grabbing the two medium sized cases off the top, whispering, "Need a hand?" She winked and proudly carried these cases for him, walking by his side. The young man, with dark brown hair combed to the side and beautiful blue eyes watched her in confusion as she handled these items with such ease and lack of fuss. "I've never understood why they can't carry these themselves." he piped up shyly. Rose laughed, completely understanding him, "They're afraid they might pull one of their muscles… not that they use their muscles to do any manual work in the first place." the bellboy sniggered slightly.

They reached the open boot of the car, and the pompous couple turned around to see the familiar bellboy who they had bossed around all weekend, but were confused to see Rose in her first class attire, carrying their luggage like a workman. The bell boy paced his pile of cases into the open boot carefully, followed closely by Rose, who basically flung them in, slammed the boot shut and smiled at the man and woman cheekily, before they hopped into the waiting vehicle and drove off.

"Thank you very much Miss."

"You're most welcome…" she glanced at his golden name badge that was pinned to the maroon coat of his work outfit. "…Robert."

Robert held out a hand, "And your name is?"

Rose took his hand and shook it, respecting his gentlemanly air. "Rose DeWitt Bukater."

"That's a name alright!" he laughed. Rose noticed how brilliantly white his teeth were, and how cute he sounded when he laughed.

"It certainly is. Soon to be Mrs Rose DeWitt Bukater Hockley." she rolled at her eyes at the sound of the name alone.

Robert looked down at her wedding ring finger, noticing the rock of ice glimmering on the band of gold. "Oh…you're engaged?"A tint of surprise and disappointment edged his voice.

Just then, a domineering figure in a silk, black bathrobe and slippers appeared at the door of the hotel, not making any effort to get out of the way for other guests coming and going. "Rose!"

She closed her eyes at the sound of his voice and took a deep breath, as if to brace herself for the fall. In response to Robert's question about being engaged, she replied "Sadly." and ran off, obeying her keeper.

"Thanks again, Rose!" Robert waved. Rose turned and winked sweetly, "Anytime, Robert." and then the gorgeous red head vanished behind a cloud of cigar smoke, the older gentleman holding the cigar wrapped a possessive arm around her curved hips and glared at the bell boy as if to say, "Don't touch what you can't afford."

Robert stared back at him, saying in his mind, "Yeah? Well don't touch her. She clearly doesn't want you."


	3. Chapter 3

Rose sat in her hotel room later that day. The walls were made of elegantly hand crafted oak panels, adorned with carvings of cherubs and foliage. A small chandelier, with glass beads (made to look like diamonds) bathed the room in a warm yellow glow. The four poster bed, which Rose shared with Cal, sat opposite the round vanity mirror. The young girl sat in front of the mirror now, staring at her reflection, asking herself an endless torment of questions.

"What did my father do which earned him the right to be murdered? Did he love gambling more than his family? What will married life to Caledon be like? Will he become a "tyrant" as the old lad had said? What "gift" will he reveal tonight? And where's the poor boy that I'm supposed to meet and runaway with?" but most importantly, the question that made her stomach turn, "What disaster will happen on the sea, and how do I escape? How does this beggar boy die? What happens?"

That afternoon's encounter with the little old lady had shook Rose, and made her withdrawn from the evenings dinner party in the 1st class diner. Ruth had noticed her lack of awareness at the table, and when simply repeating her daughters name didn't work, she prodded her thigh under the table with a small fork, snapping Rose out of her daydream. Ruth gestured towards the company at the table, hinting for her to be more attentive, before asking, "Are you alright?" Rose nodded half heartedly. Her mother smiled, then returned to her charade of laughing at all the terrible jokes the men at the table told, and trying not to gag on the poisonous plumes of cigar smoke engulfing the room. Cal, however, was less than impressed by Rose's beautiful presence, yet apparent absence, and if looks could kill, then Rose DeWitt Bukater would be six feet under…

Just then, as she sat on the small stool and gazed into the mirror, brushing her hair repeatedly, the door swung open, revealing a well-dressed Cal, holding a small glass of brandy. He looked at Rose, somewhat "lovingly," his version of the word anyway, which looked a bit more like, "possessively."

"You left early." he stated blankly.

"I wasn't feeling very well." Rose replied, the best excuse she could think of.

"I was beginning to think we were boring you." He made his way into the room, looking around the place observantly, swirling his glass of drink in his strong hand.

His young bride-to-be shook her head weakly, "Of course not. I love hearing about politics and business… and matters which I don't actually get a say in." she muttered the last part.

"What was that?" Cal whipped his head round.

"I said, all that is the matter is that it's has been a long day, and I'm tired." He was satisfied with this response and sat down on the edge of the bed, behind Rose, his reflection in the mirror staring her down. She placed her brush onto the table and picked up her small, oval, hand held mirror, inspecting her porcelain face for signs of imperfections. After she had done this, she pulled her butterfly hair clip from out of her burning red locks, and swung her head to the side, allowing her hair to fall loosely over her back and shoulders.

"Do you like this hotel room, Rose?" Cal asked suddenly.

Not sure why he asked this, she replied, "Yes, it's lovely, Cal."

"And the food this evening was to your liking?" he took a gulp of his brandy, still staring at her intently in the mirror.

She nodded.

"How about this bed? Is it a comfortable bed?" he stroked the silk sheets and goose feather pillows adoringly.

"One of the most comfortable I've ever slept in." She was perplexed now by these questions.

"And did you like the dress you were wearing tonight?"

"Of course I did, I chose it."

"But I bought it!" Cal jumped up, screaming, and threw the glass of alcohol across the room, causing it to smash against the wall loudly. Rose jumped and put her hands over her head in fright.

"This hotel room with this bed, the food you eat, the clothes you wear, it's all because of me! If I wasn't marrying you, you and your bitch of a mother would be living on the streets eating left-overs out of Philadelphia's trash cans... I'M the one who is getting your lives back on track! I'M the one who is giving YOU everything you want and more! I'M the one with the money who can give you all of this! So the least you could do is TRY and look as if you actually WANT to be with me!"

"I'm your fiancé Cal, not an actress!" Rose couldn't believe what she had just said.

Cal, snarling with anger, grabbed her by the strap of her night dress, pulled her off of the stool and spun her around to face him. She squealed in terror as he handled her like a rag doll. He grabbed her by the shoulders firmly and stood her directly in front of him. He let her go abruptly as she cowered in fear. She assumed he had come to his senses. She opened her eyes and looked at him, gritting his teeth in rage. And then a sharp pain shot across the left side of her face. Her head swung to the side as Cal's hand gave her a strong slap.

It didn't quite register at first that he had slapped her. She stood, paralyzed with shock, looking at the floor in the position that the slap had left her head in. Slowly, she turned to face him with her eyes wide open, not so much filled with fear anymore, as they were filled with complete contempt. She glared hard and long at him for a moment, until he grumbled, "ungrateful little whore." and stormed off out of the room, slamming the door violently behind him.

When he was gone, and she had heard his seemingly cheerful voice greeting his friends in the hallway, then disappear down the stairs, she walked over to the smashed glass on the floor and began to tidy it up. She was amazed by how calm and composed she stayed after what had just happened. She took the shards of glass and sat them on the small table by the armchair. She then got a clean, white bath towel from the foot of the bed and wiped up the brandy from the floor. As she sat on her knees, wiping the floor softly, she realized it was doing no good. She began to wipe harder, and harder and harder, until eventually she was attacking the floor furiously, pounding it with the towel like it was a monster. She threw the towel away, letting out a frustrated cry. As tears began streaming down her face, she punched the brandy stain in the floral carpet with all of her might, her knuckles in agony as they hit against the wooden floorboards beneath. The imperfection on the beautiful flooring wasn't going to leave, but still she fought long and hard to make it disappear. Suddenly, she stopped, looked at the mark, grabbed her hair tightly and let out an ear piercing scream of anguish. No words. No sense. Just noises of desperation.

And then all fell silent, and the young teenager slumped onto her side and sobbed into the carpet, tears competing with the brandy stain.

The door opened again, and Rose shot up in fright to see her mother hurry in. Ruth's hotel room was right next door, so it was no doubt that she had heard everything.

"What on Earth is going on?"

"It's Cal, he hit me?"

Ruth was quiet for a second, staring at her daughter in confusion. "What did you do?"

Rose's jaw dropped, stunned at what her mother had just asked. "What did I do? What did _I _do? Mother, _HE_ hit me!"

"Well you must have done something to provoke him?" Ruth seemed totally untouched by what her child was telling her.

"I did nothing to deserve a slap to the face, next time I'll make sure I do!" Rose stormed over to the vanity mirror and planted herself down, staring at her red cheek where Cal's powerful hand had struck her.

Ruth walked over to Rose and stroked her hair, seemingly caring, looking at her daughter's reflection. A single tear rolled down Rose's cheek. For a moment, she felt safe in her mother's presence, like she was young again. And then her mother spoke at last. "There will not be a next time..."

what Rose wanted her mother to say next was, _"…because I'll make sure he never lays a finger on you again!"_

Instead, she added, "…because we NEED that man in our lives, if not out of love then to save our lives. You're job is to keep him happy. His job is to keep us fed and clothed. If he leaves, then we are done for!"

Rose rolled her eyes and sighed, ignoring everything her mother said, as Cal had already beat her to it. But Ruth was not taking this sign of ignorance from her daughter, and she swung her daughter around on the stool and grabbed her by the chin tightly, tilting her head up to look right into her eyes. "I will NOT become part of the working class! And if that means I have to sacrifice your possible happiness, then that's perfectly alright with me! You're father ruined my life… perhaps ruining yours will teach you a lesson."

Rose was almost afraid of her mothers low, growling tone of voice, and how open, honest and spiteful she was being at this moment in time. "And what lesson would that be?" she asked weakly, trying not to burst into tears.

"The one lesson that we all learn in life… that no matter how hard we try, life is NEVER the way we want it to be, and we never get what we want."

Rose stood up slowly and looked down at her mother, who was considerably shorter than her. "There's only one thing in my life stopping me from getting what I want… _YOU_!"

She barged past her mother and fled the room, charging down the hallway blinded by tears, her bright hair trailing behind her as she escaped down the spiralling stairs of the hotel. People gasped and jumped out of the way as the sobbing girl made her way down to the lobby. Her slippers squeaked on the marble floor of the hotel lobby, her cries echoed around the high roofed room, and her white night dress with its frills and ribbons stood out against the posh evening attire of the guests around her. All of these guests watched her charging out of the hotel at full speed, disappearing into the dark of the cold night. Only one person watching truly cared what was the matter with this girl… and that person was Robert, the handsome British bell boy.


	4. Chapter 4

Rose kept running. She didn't know where she was going, but her adrenaline drove her forward through the endless torment of rain that pelted down onto her, following an endless road that stretched out in front of her. Puddles of water and mud splashed up onto her white night dress as she splashed through them. Her comfortable slippers couldn't hold back the pain of rocks under her feet as she stepped upon them. But with this rage, and sadness, and confusion rushing around her body, Rose couldn't feel anything. Not the pain. Not the wind. Not the rain. The only thing Rose could feel was her heart shattering into a million tiny fragments.

But just then, as she turned a corner and reached a brick wall in a dark alleyway, she felt a hand grip her shoulder. She swung around and saw a shadow swaying from side to side in front of her, still gripping her tightly by the shoulder. The smell of stale beer and tobacco emanated from his breath, and he spoke in a foreign language, which Rose knew was Russian. However his slurred speech made deciphering his words all the more difficult. She tried to shrug him off, but he tightened his grip and began shoving her against the wall. She began to panic, and squealed in terror as the drunk pushed her further into the darkness. Her head hit the wall as he stumbled forward, his grip on her tighter than ever in order to hold himself up. All that was racing through Rose's mind were the words "robbed" and "raped" but both seemed possible.

Just then, as the man began to speak again, grumbling and belching into Roses' ear, a rough hand clasped over her mouth and the other hand began tugging at her dress, and as the soft white material tore in his strong hold, his hand began gripping her bare thigh. She stood in abject horror, shaking and trying to scream out past his hand, trying to lash out at him, but he stood against her, pinning her down against the wall. Just then, as she heard him chuckle and felt the hand creep further up her dress, a thud erupted from behind the Russian, and all at once, he fell silent and dropped to the floor in a heap. Rose watched him collapse, and in the slight slither of light coming into the alleyway, she saw blood on the back of his head. she slowly angled her head upwards to see her attackers attacker, and standing there, with a metal pole in his hand, was a boy. long blonde hair, handsome features, and a well built frame. His big eyes were looking at Rose in concern. Rose was numb with fear, unable to move or even breathe, and completely unable to take her eyes off of her saviour

"You... you saved me." Rose panted, her heart trying to explode out of her chest.

"Someone had to." He looked down at the body. Rose followed his gaze and his soothing American accent. It was a nice change after hearing nothing but British accents for so long.

"Is he dead?" She didn't care, but she didn't want to see this young man get into trouble.

"Nah..." He poked the man in the rib with the metal pole. "He's still breathing."

"You didn't have to do that…"

"… But?" even he could sense a "but" coming.

"…but I'm glad you did." she looked back up at him, her eyes teary, and her red hair wet and hanging over her face in a most unladylike fashion. Her white night dress covered in patches of mud and rain and ripped up the leg.

"C'mon. We better not hang around." The gentleman held out a hand to the side, which Rose took, and carefully she walked around the body, being guided by her hero.

When they were out of the darkness and back onto the street, he took off his coat and placed it over her shoulders. She accepted it graciously, feeling that it wasn't as luxurious as Cal's coats, but was still comforting in the rain. "I'm Jack Dawson." He held out a hand.

She looked at him now that he was not shrouded in shadow, and she could see how tanned and beautiful his face was. She took his hand and replied, "I'm-"

Before she could reply, she heard someone running out of the darkness across the street. A dark silhouette lighting up as it passed a shop window caught both their attention. The dark red uniform with gold buttons and lining and the funny little hat started to appear from the misty downpour.

"Robert?" Rose gasped when she saw the bright face lad appear. She rushed over to him and he looked at the state of her. And when he noticed her dress and her trembling appearance, his attention instantly turned towards Jack. "Was this you, kid? huh?" He began to walk towards Jack, his flawlessly kind nature starting to become protective, but not aggressive at all. Rose stopped him by the shoulder s he approached the American boy.

"Robert... Robert! He saved me." She jumped between the two men as they seemed on the cusp of starting a fight.

The bell boy stopped and looked at her, then him, and then back at her. "So who hurt you?"

Rose pointed into the alleyway. "He's still in there… out cold…"

Robert looked puzzled, so Rose explained. "Jack knocked him out with a pole."

They both looked at Jack, who smiled and waved cheekily, then threw the pole into the alleyway.

"Well we're not sticking around. He'll wake up soon. C'mon." He took her by the hand their fingers clasping. She paused for a moment, looked at their hands together, then up at him. He looked back at her and took in the sight. With a tender hand, he brushed the hair out of her face and whispered, "I'll take care of you. Don't worry."

Just then, in that split second, maybe even less, Rose got a feeling inside of her that she had not felt in a long time. She felt safe. And the butterflies she got when he took her hand protectively crossing the road, avoiding a horse and cart. She hadn't felt these butterflies since her father was alive and she was a little girl, and she felt protected in his presence. Trusting a male in her life was a feeling she hadn't felt in so long.

And so, Robert and Rose began to walk off. That was until Rose stopped, turned around and shouted, "Thank you, Jack!" and then disappeared into the night with Robert.

"Wait, I didn't get your name! Mam? Mam?" he shouted after her, but the red headed beauty was gone. And then he realized how cold he was, and how wet he had become…. hic coat… that girl still had it… but was it a good enough excuse to go and find her again? . . . Jack was an opportunist, and to him, this was an opportunity he could not miss.


End file.
